


Assumptions

by Zoe Rayne (MontanaHarper)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crack, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-10
Updated: 2005-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Zoe%20Rayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's got a problem, and so he turns to a friend for advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assumptions

It took John a few minutes to make the connection between watching Ronon fight and his unusually badly timed hardon. And okay, maybe he should've been quicker on the uptake than that, but he hadn't thrown a rod in public since that thing with Jilly Simpkins in his junior year of high school, for Christ's sake.

The thing that freaked him out most was that he wasn't more freaked out. His inner red-blooded heterosexual male just kind of shrugged and said, "Whatever," and he was left staring at the strip of skin that showed between Ronon's artfully ripped shirt and his low-slung pants. And, of course, wanting desperately to _do something_ about the situation, but having no clue exactly what or how to go about it.

Which was how he found himself at Rodney's door as soon as Lt. Cadman was safely back in her own body.

When Rodney opened the door, John said, "Can I come in?" and looked up and down the corridor in a way he knew was suspiciously guilty, but he couldn't seem to help it.

Rodney stepped back, frowning, and John moved into the cluttered room, pacing a little in the minimal free space. Rodney let him pace for a minute before saying, "Is there something I can help you with, Colonel?"

And really, there was no smooth, cool way to bring the topic up, and Rodney was his friend, so John just blurted out, "I think I have a thing for Ronon. Or, you know, my dick has a thing for him, at least."

Which made Rodney blink a few times.

"And I don't know what to do," John added, in case he wasn't being clear enough.

Rodney blinked again, but then he said, "And you're here telling me this why, exactly?"

"I thought that was obvious," John said, starting to feel a little irritated now, because the situation was uncomfortable enough without Rodney insisting on dragging it out. "I needed advice."

"From me." It was a statement, and an incredulous one at that.

John sighed. "Yes, from you."

Now Rodney was looking at him like he'd grown eyes on stalks or something. "How the hell should I know?

"Because you're gay?" John said slowly and distinctly, like he was talking to someone who'd had one too many pitcher-sized margaritas.

It was apparently Rodney's turn to pace, because that's what he was doing. After a second he stopped and turned to John. "Did you get hit on the head? Maybe you've got a brain injury. You should probably go see Carson and _have your head examined_." His voice rose as he said the last few words.

"It's okay, Rodney; I don't care," John said, a little hurt that Rodney would think he was some macho homophobic jerk.

Rodney shook his head. "I take it back. It's not a brain injury; you're just completely and totally insane. Maybe it's the fumes from your hair gel."

And really, that was hitting below the belt, because John used hardly any hair gel at all. Really, very very little. So maybe his tone was just a little hostile when he said, "Oh, please. Only someone who's totally closeted would go on about all the hot women they've banged. Totally unbelievably, I might add. Samantha Carter ring any bells?" Rodney's mouth, which had started to open when John got about halfway through his tirade, shut with a snap. "Plus," John continued smugly, "there was that whole thing with kissing Beckett."

"That was so not me! It was Cadman; she's evil." John just raised his eyebrow, and Rodney blushed. "Okay, so maybe there's more than just a little wishful thinking when it comes to Colonel Carter, but that doesn't mean I'm gay. Maybe I'm just...shy."

It was a good thing that there was an easily accessible wall to hold him up, because it took John a good five minutes to stop laughing. When he finally caught his breath again, he wiped his eyes and said, "No, really. So what do I do?"

Rodney grabbed the front of his jacket, and for one terrified second John thought he was going to get an actual demonstration, but then he was stumbling backward into the corridor and the door was sliding shut in his face.

"Fine," he said, straightening his jacket. "See if I carry you to the infirmary the next time you 'pass out from manly hunger.'"

And there was a thought. Beckett could probably give him some decent advice; after all, any guy who regularly wore a skirt _had_ to be gay, right? He headed toward the infirmary, humming.


End file.
